


'Tis The Season To Be Joly

by Tournesol



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Party, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2851589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tournesol/pseuds/Tournesol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly is sick on Christmas day and is sad to miss the Christmas party Les Amis have spent weeks to organize, that is, until Les Amis intervene. For the prompt "Joly is sick on Christmas Eve. (Fluff, but nothing above teen please. Can be modern AU or canon)" (I cheated a bit and set it on the 25th instead of Christmas Eve, hope that's okay!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis The Season To Be Joly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [legendofthefireemblem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthefireemblem/gifts).



Joly looked forlornly at the wall where a crooked “ ‘TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLY” hung in bright glittery paper, a surprise from Musichetta, Bossuet and Grantaire, who could not resist a bad pun.

Joly didn’t feel too much jolly at the moment, as he found himself bed ridden on the 25th, a day he’d been looking forward to for weeks, the promise of a celebration between friends at the Musain. 

Some of les Amis had gone back to their families on the eve of Christmas, and the 25th evening had been saved for a party in between friends at the Musain, a party they’d all been looking forward to as for once everyone had managed to get time off to celebrate together properly. Even the most grinchesque members of the group had participated in decorating or cooking and baking in order to have a party of massive proportions, not to mention how excited they were at the prospect of their Secret Santa assignments

But for all his friends teased him about his hypochondriac tendencies, the asthma attack he’d suffered in the morning had very much been real, and even if he’d escaped a trip to the emergency room, the attack had left him exhausted and feeling like his chest had been kicked in by a horse, meaning a trip in the cold to the Musain or even attending a party was now out of the question. Joly looked down at his ugly Christmas Jumper, only feeling more miserable at the joke being played on him by his traitorous body.

He’d coaxed Bossuet, Grantaire and Musichetta into going, pleading with them that him making them miss the party would only make him feel more terrible, and after he’d subjected them to his pleading puppy dog eyes, they’d agreed to go without him for a little while, fifteen minute tops, had sworn Musichetta.

That had been forty fives minutes ago, and there were still no signs of them, nor a text from any of his friends. And he was really trying not to feel too bummed out by this, after all it was only normal, they probably had not seen the time fly, as you do in these situation, and if anything, he could blame the tightness in his chest on the asthma and not on the heartache at having been forgotten. 

A commotion in the hallway brought him back from his gloomy thoughts, something bumping on the wall followed by a muttered curse. It was neither Bossuet, Grantaire, nor Musichetta like he expected, but Bahorel, followed by Feuilly, and then one by one all his friends scrambled in the tiny apartment, arms ridden with food, drinks, and gifts. 

“We heard you were gonna miss the party and we couldn't have that so we brought the party to you instead,” said Bahorel, grinning and making the jingle bells on his reindeer antler hat chime with every step he took to plant a wet kiss on Joly’s forehead.

Each and everyone of his friends came to him to lavish him with hugs and kisses and it was too much, his day taking a turn for the worse and then for the better again thanks to his wonderful friends, and a few tears threatened in the corner of his eyes at the rush of emotion he could hardly process because they did all this for him, just so he wouldn't miss the party.

“Awwww come one now, don’t cry and be jolllly my friend,” said Grantaire, “you’re gonna put Marius to shame.”

“Hey!” cried Bahorel, “it’s okay to cry and be a man, or a woman, or any of your preferred gender for that matter.”

They all pushed most of the furniture away to make a comfortable space in the middle of the living room, and propped Joly comfortably on a pile of blankets and cushions before sprawling in a circle around him, passing food and drinks and trading laughs and funny stories. 

At some point, Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac gathered behind him and at his sides, cuddling him and petting his hair, trying to soothe him by pressing acupressure points Combeferre, who’d left his wheelchair in a corner to sprawl on the floor in a similar fashion to Joly’s, showed them that were said to help relieve asthma. 

Éponine came back from the kitchen with a cup of ginger tea for Joly to drink and Cosette wrapped a thick soft scarf around his neck, which judging from the color scheme and funny patterns could only be one of Bahorel’s creations. 

Marius, emboldened by a couple drinks of eggnog, was singing carols in several languages, gracing them with a surprising good clear voice, and was soon joined by Grantaire, Cosette, Éponine, and Musichetta who sang harmonies.

As he glanced at his friends, the dull ache in Joly’s chest was replaced by warmth, and if this time his chest felt like it was about to burst, it was not because of a lack of oxygen but because how loved he felt. He didn't feel as if his friends were fussing over him, smothering him, the way they’d gone out of their way to make this possible, it didn't make him feel like he stood out and was a burden, but like he belonged, and for that he couldn't be more grateful. 

The highlight of the party was the gift exchange, and once again Joly marveled at how lucky he was, admiring his new set of periodic table dice, talking about science with Combeferre and Éponine and coming up with atrocious puns with the rest of them.


End file.
